Page 70 of Of Flame and Fury

“It’s not that easy, Taran. Not when I don’t know what happened myself.”

This really isn’t the time to talk. She made it more than clear. I only hope, sometime soon, it will be.

I sigh, frustrated, and maybe a little scared too. Someone with a heart as big as Emme’s will always hurt more.

“Let’s get back into the hall,” I say. “There’s nothing here.”

But then there is, ’cause this is my life.

A giggle, like that of a possessed little girl except not as cute, sweeps through the gossamer curtains, causing them to flutter. The feel of it shoves into Emme and me, lifting our hair before bouncing along the room.

Mother effer. I hate being wrong. And damn it all, is it too much to ask to get back to Celia in one piece?

I sense Emme’s gape on me when the girl, woman, spirit, whatever the hell, laughs again. If I turned my head, maybe I’d exchanged freaked-out glances with her. Except the goose bumps making my spinal cord their bitch won’t allow it.

“We’re going to have to fight our way out of here, aren’t we?” Emme asks.

“Yup,” I say. I cringe whenCreepShowgirl laughs again.

Emme rolls up the sleeves of her borrowed sweater. “I really hate fighting our way out.”

“Beats dying,” I remind her, taking the lead.

Emme releases a rather defeated sigh. “Yes, it does.”

Although I’m the first one to the curtains, I don’t exactly leap through and into action. Not when another creepier, giddier giggle drifts through.

“G-goodness,” Emme says. “She’s really excited to tear us apart.”

“Uh-huh,” I agree. Goose bumps spread along Sparky’s length. Well, isn’t this encouraging? “It’s like she can’t wait to dig her claws into us.”

I lift my head high. I will not be intimidated by a laugh, no matter how disturbing…oh,man, there she goes again. The giggles turn manic and, if possible, eager.

“Maybe we don’t have to fight our way out,” Emme stammers. “I mean, every evil entity can’t be beyond reason, can they?”

“Sure,” I agree. I don’t mean it, of course. Neither does Emme despite what she says.

“Screw it,” I snap. “This freak is going down.”

I charge through the curtains. Emme follows, slamming into me when I stop short. There, past the fountains, the toilets, bare wall is…nothing.

I’m not certain whether to be relieved or more frightened. Nothing, peeps, is ever this easy for us.

“Where is she?” Emme whispers. She eases forward to stand beside me, keeping a small space between us. It’s the fighting stance we developed over the years. We’re close enough to guard each other’s backs, but far enough away to avoid friendly fire.

“Taran?” she asks.

I don’t answer when I realize something is very different. “We’re facing our shadows,” I say.

“We have to fight our own shadows?” Emme all but shrieks.

“No.” Well, crap, at least I hope not. “I mean when we walked in, our shadows faced the wall behind us. Now, they’re lined along the exit.”

“The candles don’t follow light patterns the way the sun does,” she reasons. “And they move and…stuff.”

She’s trying to make sense of it all. Deep down inside, my little sister knows we’re fucked.

And don’t I prove my point when another shadow appears between ours? The shadow rises, flinging her long hair back as she arches and glides her hands down her gi-hugic breasts. Her fingers dance along her body, sweeping lower, reaching her lady parts, and going deep. That’s when her laugh turns naughty, gleeful, and taunting.

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